NyghtPhreak
Thursday, February 7, 2008, 12:45 AM
This is what i sent in as a submission for the contest i figured i'd post it so everyone can read it, and hopefully review it. i take all criticism it really helps to hear other points of view. Thanks for reading.
I also have it posted on my blog here. (http://gamer-unit.blogspot.com)
Moments.
Taken from the personal writings of Templar Marcus Samson.
The nights were always cold. Ever since the opening of the hellgate… the days became colder. The nights unforgiving. I was there… at the time they first came. So much death… in so very few moments. Mothers, daughters, sons, even children were ripped apart as if they were nothing more than scraps of paper. I’ve never been much of a writer, hell, I don’t think I have written anything under my own will. With the world being the way it is hardly any of us are ever remembered. I hope that in some way this memoir will help keep me in someone’s mind. Or at the very least, give someone hope.
Hope is something that we all seem to have lost. I can’t say that I blame most of the blokes for losing their sense of self, pride, or even giving into fear. We have all been brought up believing that the “boogie-man” was in our closet and would get us if we didn’t go to sleep, as we grow older we discover that the “boogie-man” has been reduced to nothing more than a control element used to get children to stay in their bed.
“Monsters aren’t real sweetheart” I still hear my mother’s voice in my head reassuring me that the latest horror movie I just saw was nothing more than a distressed man’s creation in his personal sick thoughts. Little did I know that I would soon find out that all those fictional tales, supposed “spins of the yarn” would become true and make us all sorry for doubting the true power they have.
Throughout the last few years I have seen so many things. I have seen the convictions of men reduced to nothing more than the wining of a small child as they clutch their blade forward hoping the monstrosities before them would just throw themselves upon the forged steel they so tightly hold in their grasp. These moments make me wary about the fate of humanity. What shall we have if these are the types of soldiers that we breed? How can we hope to find the true meaning of The Sigil if we are not willing to throw their lives on the line to protect those they hold dear? Truly the road ahead is extremely dark and tedious.
Yet throughout these moments of cowardice, I have also seen the convictions held strong! Templars that will not give way into the abyss without sending as many of these twisted replusions back to hell! Those in which faith will not falter, never shaken, never questioned! Those that walk the path of both the righteous and the strong!
One moment stands in favor of this last paragraph. I was a bit younger, still in my training stages. One day the more advanced Templars took us out for top side training, which was most of the unit’s first time out of the cavernous railways we call home. You could feel the tension, the uncertainty, and even smell the fear on most. The Templars kept us close, according to them most of what we may encounter will be no more than mere zombies and possibly lower demons. What we now refer to as “no real danger”. This was combat training, we all knew it, this was the time to prove what we are really worth. As the training went on we struck down as many of the demons as we could find.
“Alright men, good job today!” the commander exclaimed.
“Time to head back” the order was followed by a lack of excitement. We were caught in the moment, men standing together, as men. The feeling that we finally won back some of our dignity, defeated many foes that bested many of mankind, this feeling was all too suddenly interrupted with one loud scream followed by a huge explosion.
We all fell back on instinct weapons at the ready. The commander looked about, his second in command moving forward carefully.
“Sir, humans, possibly Templars fighting ahead!” the second in command yelled.
“Looks like your training isn’t done just yet men!” we all followed the order with a huge yell of excitement. You could feel the rush of adrenaline throughout us all as we threw ourselves forward behind our captain ready to disband any that dare oppose us.
It seemed like it took an eternity for us to reach the ones in need. Ahead of us the second in command stand upon a small hill looking down the look in his eyes, I do not have the words for. The captain shared his look as well all did when we caught up to see what this was.
A soldier stands amongst a small army of the most horrid things I had ever seen to that date. Dancing with them in a furry of steel and torn flesh, one by one the monsters met their match falling to his blade. At first I didn’t understand why the men didn’t rush in… was it fear? I asked myself, no it was pure astonishment. Why? When I moved closer to get a clearer look, I understood immediately, it was a boy! A boy of no more than sixteen years of age! His form, perfect, his strikes, deadly. There he stood somewhat frail and small for that of a Templar in the more advanced stages, he stood back straight, head held high. What was driving this boy? Fear? No, behind him lay the bodies of four Templar Knights, one still hanging on to breath barely, next to this Knight a small girl holding on to a growling dog. She was crying loudly gripping the dog tightly as if it was all she has ever had in the world. The girl no more than ten years old, she had not seen much and knows nothing about life, little does she know that that young boy was all that stood between her and death.
This is the moment in which not only men, but heroes are made. This young boy stands strong, his convictions needing no words. Engaged in the most deadly, yet beautiful ballet I have yet to see bested. Sweat and blood mix into his eyes, his chest is heaving, he is growing tired, but shows not one second of weakness, for every one that lands a blow upon him, three meet their demise.
“Let’s go men, show them what happens when they tossle with Templars!!” our captain shouted.
We all followed yelling loudly weapons up, we were tired, malnourished, and beaten up, but this young boy lifted our spirits beyond the barriers of human imperfection. We fought that day as hard as ever. When the last demon fell so did the young boy. Our captain ran over to him.
”Are you alright son?” the captain said
“Yes… father…” the boy said weakly, the looks from all the men spoke volumes about our surprise.
“We… found her… in the store… she’s…. stranded….”
“Shhh, now son, we shall get you back home, you need rest”
”She… has… no family…”
”We shall be her family”
This moment was a defining time for my faith. In a time where faith is the most important mine was waving. I had lost hope, for every team we sent out in hopes of finding more information toward ending this war, only a few men and women ever return. But here, in this moment, one boy did not care what his future held. Whether it be a glorious death defending the life of a small girl, or to be taken home alive, a hero, that did not matter, he was stuck in the moment. The moment in which his faith, his beliefs, were more powerful than any amount of fear, uncertainty, or doubt that his head was filled with. He allowed his heart to take over, to guide him through the storm knowing that what he believed in would not allow him to run! Would not allow him to lose! Would not allow that little girl to live her last moment clutching onto a dog in some decrepit old building, never knowing what life had to offer her.
We all live life in a series of moments… all chained together by time and sprinkled with emotion. We share these moments with others, in words, in action, and in first hand experience. In these moments we are slaves, heroes, loved ones, and people. We must take these moments and cherish them, for it is a record of our lives, of times of laughter, times of sadness, times of loss, in these moments we are filled with emotion.. the basic principle of who we are, how we feel, and this is what makes us…. Human.
I also have it posted on my blog here. (http://gamer-unit.blogspot.com)
Moments.
Taken from the personal writings of Templar Marcus Samson.
The nights were always cold. Ever since the opening of the hellgate… the days became colder. The nights unforgiving. I was there… at the time they first came. So much death… in so very few moments. Mothers, daughters, sons, even children were ripped apart as if they were nothing more than scraps of paper. I’ve never been much of a writer, hell, I don’t think I have written anything under my own will. With the world being the way it is hardly any of us are ever remembered. I hope that in some way this memoir will help keep me in someone’s mind. Or at the very least, give someone hope.
Hope is something that we all seem to have lost. I can’t say that I blame most of the blokes for losing their sense of self, pride, or even giving into fear. We have all been brought up believing that the “boogie-man” was in our closet and would get us if we didn’t go to sleep, as we grow older we discover that the “boogie-man” has been reduced to nothing more than a control element used to get children to stay in their bed.
“Monsters aren’t real sweetheart” I still hear my mother’s voice in my head reassuring me that the latest horror movie I just saw was nothing more than a distressed man’s creation in his personal sick thoughts. Little did I know that I would soon find out that all those fictional tales, supposed “spins of the yarn” would become true and make us all sorry for doubting the true power they have.
Throughout the last few years I have seen so many things. I have seen the convictions of men reduced to nothing more than the wining of a small child as they clutch their blade forward hoping the monstrosities before them would just throw themselves upon the forged steel they so tightly hold in their grasp. These moments make me wary about the fate of humanity. What shall we have if these are the types of soldiers that we breed? How can we hope to find the true meaning of The Sigil if we are not willing to throw their lives on the line to protect those they hold dear? Truly the road ahead is extremely dark and tedious.
Yet throughout these moments of cowardice, I have also seen the convictions held strong! Templars that will not give way into the abyss without sending as many of these twisted replusions back to hell! Those in which faith will not falter, never shaken, never questioned! Those that walk the path of both the righteous and the strong!
One moment stands in favor of this last paragraph. I was a bit younger, still in my training stages. One day the more advanced Templars took us out for top side training, which was most of the unit’s first time out of the cavernous railways we call home. You could feel the tension, the uncertainty, and even smell the fear on most. The Templars kept us close, according to them most of what we may encounter will be no more than mere zombies and possibly lower demons. What we now refer to as “no real danger”. This was combat training, we all knew it, this was the time to prove what we are really worth. As the training went on we struck down as many of the demons as we could find.
“Alright men, good job today!” the commander exclaimed.
“Time to head back” the order was followed by a lack of excitement. We were caught in the moment, men standing together, as men. The feeling that we finally won back some of our dignity, defeated many foes that bested many of mankind, this feeling was all too suddenly interrupted with one loud scream followed by a huge explosion.
We all fell back on instinct weapons at the ready. The commander looked about, his second in command moving forward carefully.
“Sir, humans, possibly Templars fighting ahead!” the second in command yelled.
“Looks like your training isn’t done just yet men!” we all followed the order with a huge yell of excitement. You could feel the rush of adrenaline throughout us all as we threw ourselves forward behind our captain ready to disband any that dare oppose us.
It seemed like it took an eternity for us to reach the ones in need. Ahead of us the second in command stand upon a small hill looking down the look in his eyes, I do not have the words for. The captain shared his look as well all did when we caught up to see what this was.
A soldier stands amongst a small army of the most horrid things I had ever seen to that date. Dancing with them in a furry of steel and torn flesh, one by one the monsters met their match falling to his blade. At first I didn’t understand why the men didn’t rush in… was it fear? I asked myself, no it was pure astonishment. Why? When I moved closer to get a clearer look, I understood immediately, it was a boy! A boy of no more than sixteen years of age! His form, perfect, his strikes, deadly. There he stood somewhat frail and small for that of a Templar in the more advanced stages, he stood back straight, head held high. What was driving this boy? Fear? No, behind him lay the bodies of four Templar Knights, one still hanging on to breath barely, next to this Knight a small girl holding on to a growling dog. She was crying loudly gripping the dog tightly as if it was all she has ever had in the world. The girl no more than ten years old, she had not seen much and knows nothing about life, little does she know that that young boy was all that stood between her and death.
This is the moment in which not only men, but heroes are made. This young boy stands strong, his convictions needing no words. Engaged in the most deadly, yet beautiful ballet I have yet to see bested. Sweat and blood mix into his eyes, his chest is heaving, he is growing tired, but shows not one second of weakness, for every one that lands a blow upon him, three meet their demise.
“Let’s go men, show them what happens when they tossle with Templars!!” our captain shouted.
We all followed yelling loudly weapons up, we were tired, malnourished, and beaten up, but this young boy lifted our spirits beyond the barriers of human imperfection. We fought that day as hard as ever. When the last demon fell so did the young boy. Our captain ran over to him.
”Are you alright son?” the captain said
“Yes… father…” the boy said weakly, the looks from all the men spoke volumes about our surprise.
“We… found her… in the store… she’s…. stranded….”
“Shhh, now son, we shall get you back home, you need rest”
”She… has… no family…”
”We shall be her family”
This moment was a defining time for my faith. In a time where faith is the most important mine was waving. I had lost hope, for every team we sent out in hopes of finding more information toward ending this war, only a few men and women ever return. But here, in this moment, one boy did not care what his future held. Whether it be a glorious death defending the life of a small girl, or to be taken home alive, a hero, that did not matter, he was stuck in the moment. The moment in which his faith, his beliefs, were more powerful than any amount of fear, uncertainty, or doubt that his head was filled with. He allowed his heart to take over, to guide him through the storm knowing that what he believed in would not allow him to run! Would not allow him to lose! Would not allow that little girl to live her last moment clutching onto a dog in some decrepit old building, never knowing what life had to offer her.
We all live life in a series of moments… all chained together by time and sprinkled with emotion. We share these moments with others, in words, in action, and in first hand experience. In these moments we are slaves, heroes, loved ones, and people. We must take these moments and cherish them, for it is a record of our lives, of times of laughter, times of sadness, times of loss, in these moments we are filled with emotion.. the basic principle of who we are, how we feel, and this is what makes us…. Human.